Chasing the Moon
by aces
Summary: The Doctor gets a new companion...


Legal stuff I suppose I need: Dr. Who isn't mine, never will be, will always and forever be owned by the Beeb (bow down before the great BBC…), I'm just borrowing the 8th Doctor to play with (no sick jokes, please). Like my last fic, in this one I made up a companion of my own for the Doc, so these stories are in no way connected to the books. I give it a PG rating for the language, and I apologize in advance for all plot holes and inconsistencies; plot was never my strong point…enjoy!

Dark Romance:

A Story in (More Than) Three Parts

CHASING THE MOON

chapter one

Marc was walking toward the moon.

The sun was almost set behind her, and the moon rose above, white and almost full, startlingly obvious in the deep black sky. It looked beautiful. Marc desperately wished she could go there.

She was heading for her dorm, her arms loaded down with books and her shoulders aching from her heavy denim backpack. She had some serious reading to do this weekend.

Other students flitted in and out among the trees, dressed in bizarre costumes and laughing at each other. Marc didn't notice any of them; she was in a good mood and couldn't wait to open one of her books, curled up on the floor of her room with the window wide open to let in the cold wind and the eerie moonlight.

"Hey! Marc!" someone yelled. Marc swung around and crashed into another girl. Books and backpack went flying.

"Oh shit I'm sorry, Marc," Rose said. She hurriedly bent down and began gathering books, grinning when she saw what the volumes were about. _The Kings and Queens of England, The Children of Henry VIII, The Tudor Monarchy._ "Do I detect a trend here?"

"I have a report due in a week," Marc explained. "I've got a _lot_ to read before then."

"You're coming to Janet's party tonight, though, right?"

"Party?" Marc repeated blankly.

Rose rolled expressive brown eyes. "Yes. Party. Halloween," she said slowly, distinguishing each syllable clearly. "Remember?" She waved her hands around, almost hitting Marc in the nose and causing her to drop her books again. "Ya think people _always _go around dressed like this?" One could tell she was an acting major.

"Oh yeah!" Marc exclaimed suddenly, her face clearing. "Of course! God, I completely forgot."

"I noticed," was the wry reply. "But you are coming, yeah?"

"Of course. I've just gotta find something to wear."

"Don't worry," Rose grinned, visualizing Marc's closet and the area around it. "You'll find something, no doubt. Should I call you in a couple hours, make sure you don't get wrapped up in a book or something?"

"I'm not that forgetful," Marc scoffed, hefting her backpack more securely on her shoulder.

"No? I'll call anyway. See ya!" Rose jogged away.

"'Bye!" Marc called after her friend and hurried off in the opposite direction.

* * *

Marc dumped her books and backpack on her bed and looked around her cramped dorm room thoughtfully, wanting inspiration for her costume. She noticed a lime green frock coat that went to mid-calf struggling to escape her closet and being suffocated by a pair of men's plaid brown trousers. She'd found the frock coat in a flea market a year ago and hadn't been able to resist. The pants she didn't want to think about. But she'd never worn either article of clothing.

Tonight would be a good night to debut both the coat and trousers. Marc also grabbed a frilly white shirt that reminded her of either a French painter's smock or a pirate, and a black, felt wide-brimmed hat.

She stood back to admire the effect of the entire ensemble together in the full-length mirror on the door to her closet. She burst out laughing.

Marc glanced reluctantly at her books, then shrugged and told herself she'd come home early and wake up early tomorrow to work. Thoroughly doubting she'd do either of these, Marc grabbed her backpack and tripped out of her room, just missing Rose's call to remind her about the party.

* * *

"You like?" Marc asked and twirled around in the doorway for Jan's benefit. Jan stood in the opened door of her apartment, staring at Marc.

"I like," Jan grinned. "But you need a sword. And an eye-patch. And a parrot. Come on in."

The living room was dark, a strobe light and pulsing music creating an impression that the room was actually moving. A muted roar of people shouting and laughing told Marc there were already a lot of people at the party. She grinned; just the way she liked it. Jan took her backpack and disappeared.

"Hey, Marc!" Jack yelled, jumping out of nowhere in front of Marc. "Love the costume! Is this great or what?"

"Yeah. Love your costume too. What're you supposed to be, a college student?"

Jack glanced down at his t-shirt and jeans. "How'd you guess?" he grinned rakishly. "Hey, there's Alec--see you later!" He dived back into the crowd.

Marc shook her head and headed for the drinks, slipping between cats and kings, ghosts and Elvis Preseleys, a depressed robot and a Musketeer.

She was standing next to the drinks, pouring herself a soda, when someone said, "I like your coat. Where'd you get it?"

Marc looked up, trying to peer into the stranger's face. His skin was almost as white as hers was--unusual; she normally looked like an actor's teeth in whitener commercials--and he had long, golden-brown curly hair. His accent was British and his voice fascinating. Marc noticed voices. "A flea market," she confessed. "I like your coat too."

It was velvet and dark, only slighter shorter than hers. He grinned, white teeth gleaming in the darkness. "Thank you. I _didn't _get mine in a flea market."

Marc laughed and stuck out her hand. "Marc Davis."

He shook her hand, his skin cool and tingling. "Mark?" he questioned. Despite the noise, he didn't raise his voice, yet she could still hear him clearly.

He sipped his drink. Marc tried to get a better look at his face and failed; he seemed to always be in shadow. "Short for Marcella," she explained easily. She was used to people asking about her name.

"Unusual. But pretty."

Marc rolled her eyes. "So everyone tells me. I don't think it suits me."

"Yes, but you could be named something common--like Kimberly or Jessica. Or your name could be unpronounceable, like mine."

"True." Marc was about to ask the stranger his name when someone--Jason--yelled her name and grabbed her, pulling her away from the table. She waved her cup, almost spilling it, at the other man and hoped she'd get to see him again tonight.

She almost missed him. Around eleven, Marc saw the man slip out the front door. "Jan," Marc tapped her friend's shoulder urgently, "Who's that guy? The one leaving?"

"In the velvet Victorian gear?" Jan shrugged, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Dunno. Came in with a big group of people just before you showed up. Why?"

"Just wondering." Marc made a show of looking at her watch. "Woah, I gotta go. Lots of reading to do. 'Bye. Great party!" she called over her shoulder as she grabbed her backpack and ran out the door.

As soon as she was out of the room, she clattered down the stairs at breakneck speed, praying she hadn't missed the stranger. Sure enough, she saw the velvet frock coat slip around the corner of the building as she stumbled out of the apartment complex.

Marc trailed after the Briton, wishing she could take off her coat--it virtually glowed in the dark--but she would freeze her butt off if she did that. She had no idea why she didn't just catch up with the guy; for some reason, following him felt right. Besides, this was exciting and kinda fun. She'd never followed a cute, mysterious stranger before. Hell, she'd never followed _anyone_ before.

The man turned abruptly down an alleyway. Marc jogged after him, rounded the corner, and ground to a halt.

He was gone.

Marc looked around the alley in disappointment, vaguely wondering at the back of her mind where he went. A brick wall blocked off the other end, and he couldn't have gotten up the fire escape already. Only a dumpster and large wooden box stood in the dismal passageway.

Large wooden box.

Marc neared the box. It was about 8 feet tall, with a light on top and double doors. The blue paint was chipped and peeling; the windows were grimy. The box had seen better days. A small inset square on the left-hand door said something about emergency telephone, free for the use of public. She tried pulling the little handle, but it appeared to be stuck. Above the doors in white paint were the words Police public call Box. 

Marc reached out a tentative hand and touched the right-hand door. She gasped in shock when the door swung open, revealing blackness within. Marc peered in without stepping closer but couldn't see anything.

"Well, don't just stand there gaping. Come in already," the British accent said from inside. Marc jumped. "And close the door behind you. I don't want just anyone wandering in."  


chapter two

The Doctor stood at the console with his back to the main doors. But he knew Marc was standing just barely in the doorway, gawping.

"It's not an illusion," he said and turned around. Sure enough, the young woman stood with her hand still on the door, her mouth hanging slightly open and her unusual blue eyes wide.

The Doctor studied Marcella. By human standards, she was striking, not pretty or beautiful. Her face was too white and her hair was straight, silky and black, cut short and framing her face. She wore a dark shade of lipstick that failed completely to match her lime-coloured coat.

"A former incarnation of mine would have loved that coat," the Doctor suddenly remarked.

"Holy Mother of Christ," Marc said, looking around, "what'd Jan put in her soda?"

The Doctor frowned. "Presumably soda," he answered. Her eyes focused on him and he grinned encouragingly. "You're not dreaming or hallucinating. This is real."

Marc stepped down to his level, still attempting to take in the mass of details surrounding her and failing. The room was huge and Gothic, at least to Marc's untutored and unnerved eye. It seemed to be a jumble of periods and places, and at the moment Marc really doubted all those periods and places were from Earth, which was a rather frightening prospect.

She really ought to have studied more architecture.

"Is this where you live?" Marc whispered. She was incapable of speaking at a normal volume. She realized she was shivering and began to laugh. "I'm sorry, I don't even know your name."

"Call me the Doctor."

"Doctor huh? Of what?"

He spread out his hands and grinned. Marc particularly noted the glitter in his blue eyes. "Anything and everything."

Marc cocked her head to one side and considered him. She started shaking her head. "This is madness." She stepped away from him and the console and began wandering around the room to take a closer look at things. "What _is _this place?"

"My TARDIS. Stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. She travels through time and space."

Marc stopped wandering and slowly turned to face the Time Lord again. "_She?_ Travels through _time_ and _space_?! Holy--! You're joking right? I mean--that's not possible! Time and _space?! _I must be dreaming."

"Do you want me to pinch you?" He abruptly sounded serious. "This is real, Marc. It is." He took Marc's arm, led her to the hexagonal mushroom-shaped console standing in pride of place in the middle of the room and placed her hand on it. "Feel that?"

Marc nodded. She could feel the console vibrating and humming. His touch was still cold and tingling; it took her breath away. "Right," she said, a determined look on her face. "Then if this thing moves through--time and space--" she stumbled over the impossible words, "show me."

"Sorry?" the Doctor frowned.

Marc looked at him imploringly. "Please Doctor. Take me with you on a trip. I have to see if this is real. Don't you understand?"

"Ah. You're a skeptic."

"Sometimes. But I love to travel, and I've never been outside of the US. For god's sake, I'm a history student! Please, Doctor?"

The Doctor studied her for an instant. He was lonely without someone to talk to, yes, but did he have any right to take Marc away from her whole life? He'd done it so often before, starting with his own granddaughter, but lately he'd been getting the uncomfortable impression this wasn't a good idea.

"It will be frightening," he warned, a weak protest. "I tend to attract danger."

Marc hid a grin. Of _course_ he did. The man was a walking cliche and completely clueless. "I'll survive."

"Yes, but you won't be the same. You might hate it. You might hate _me._"

"I don't even _know _you. You could be a psychotic mass murderer who's only lured me into a magician's dream house to kill me for all I know."

"I'm not."  
"I didn't think so. Let's go. Please."

"Marc..."

She held his gaze firmly. She could already picture standing on a moon, a star, far away from this place, just what she'd always wanted. He couldn't take this opportunity away. "Please Doctor. I've never done anything impulsively. I'm the definition of the cautious good girl. Let me do this. Just this once...please."

The Doctor slowly nodded. "Very well, Marc."

He set the controls.

* * *

Marc hovered around an easy chair, waiting. The Doctor stood at the console, muttering to himself and occasionally adjusting a control.

Marc sighed and slipped out of her green coat. She looked down at her huge shirt billowing around her and tucked it into her plaid pants, pulling her belt tighter. Now without the coat, she _really_ looked like a swashbuckling pirate.

The lighted rods in the center column of the console stopped moving. The Doctor glanced up and pivoted to face Marc. "We've landed."

"Where?" her voice caught in her throat; she cleared it and repeated the question.

The Doctor ignored her sputtering. "Hmm, definitely not Earth. Far into your future. Was settled by humans with advanced technology but they were almost wiped out by something or other; this doesn't say what. Now their technology is comparable to your time." He grinned at Marc. "Ready?"

She nodded and he opened the doors.

"After you," the Doctor said.

* * *

It was night. They were in the middle of a park.

The yellow moon, watered down by clouds, was overhead.

"Wow," Marc breathed.

A cold wind stirred around her as if disturbed by her words. She shivered. The Doctor was already wandering ahead of her, his curly hair blowing around his head.

Marc felt suddenly free, the-last-day-of-school kind of freedom, where you have the whole summer ahead of you, full of endless possibilities. She laughed giddily and jogged after the Doctor.

"This is fantastic," Marc grinned. The Doctor couldn't be completely lying; they'd at least moved in space, if not time.

She ran off, heading down the wide, paved road toward the moon. The Doctor's attention was caught by a star constellation in the sky; he stood immobile in the middle of the street, near the TARDIS.

Marc strolled down the road, her hands stuffed in her pants pockets. And then someone was standing in front of her, almost running into her.

"Woah!" Marc cried out, jumping back. She hadn't even seen the guy.

"I'm sorry," he said, also taking a step back. "My fault. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Neither was I," Marc admitted. He was dressed entirely in black: leather jacket, silk shirt, slacks. Very elegant, if rather morbid. And incredibly hard to see in the dark; he blended in with the surroundings. He smiled, white teeth showing in the darkness.

"Do you normally walk around alone at night?" he asked. "Not very safe, you know."

"Oh, I'm not alone. I have a f-friend--back there--" Marc gestured vaguely behind her to the wooded area. She glanced over her shoulder but didn't see the Doctor. Turning back to the young man, she smiled at him. "Actually, we are new here. D'you know a place where we could spend the night?"  
"There's a hotel just down this road." He gestured behind him, imitating Marc. "If you want, I can show you and your friend."

"Thanks a lot." She stuck out her hand. "Marc Davis."  
The man took her outstretched hand and bowed over it. "How do you do, Marc. I'm Elliot."  
Marc was charmed. No one acted like _that_ back home. He had an interesting accent; perhaps she was in Europe. She shook her head as if to clear it, abruptly unwilling to believe what was happening and what the Doctor had told her.

The Doctor was by her side. Marc started slightly, wondering how long he'd been there. "I was wondering what happened to you, Marc," he said.

"Doctor, this is Elliot. He says there's a hotel down the road where we can spend the night." She didn't know what kind of accommodation the Doctor's...uh, machine had.

"Oh?" the Doctor looked interestedly at Elliot. "That sounds like a splendid idea, Marc. Is there anything you want from my...ship?"  
"Um, yeah, my backpack."

He took her arm. "We'll be back in a moment, Elliot," the Doctor said. He led her back to the TARDIS.

Marc ran in and picked up her backpack, debating about grabbing her coat and deciding against it. Then she turned back to the Doctor. "Ready?"

He nodded. Marc walked out.

She turned back as the Time Lord walked out and shut the door behind him, momentarily illuminated by the moon, fog swirling around him, the ultimate cliche of dark, handsome and mysterious stranger. "What is your name?" she asked impulsively.

She could see his smile in the darkness. "Oh I've had many names over the years. I tend to use John Smith a lot..."

"John Smith?" Marc snorted in disbelief.

His grin widened as they trooped back down the road. "That does seem to be a common reaction. Bowman seems to be haunting me lately..."

They joined Elliot and walked down the road toward the hotel. Marc stared up at the moon; the clouds were surrounding but not covering it. She could almost feel that black nothingness up there. She wanted to dance in that darkness, fly through that cold void. It was beautiful.

The three stopped moving in front of a large, old building. Lights were on all over, and Marc could hear people inside, talking. She thought she detected music, eerie and faint.

"It's a pub as well as hotel," Elliot said by way of explanation. "Come on."

They walked inside.

Marc and the Doctor actually weren't out of place. The room was full of young, darkly handsome people, all wearing velvet and silk and lace and leather, some really gorgeous clothes. Marc wanted to wear all the clothes she saw.

A couple men stood out; they looked like twins. Both had long dark hair cut the same way and grey far-seeing eyes. One, wearing a long black coat and undone black bolo tie, was lounging at a table with another man and two women. The lookalike, in a black waistcoat and white shirt with sleeves rolled up, stood behind his twin, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace.

Everyone stopped talking when the strangers walked in. They all stared at Marc and the Doctor. She stood a little straighter, hefted her backpack more securely, and fervently hoped she wasn't blushing.

"Well well well," said the sitting-down lookalike. "Who do we have here?" His voice was a languorous drawl, consciously dramatic. He spoke in a precise, elegant accent that Marc loved despite disliking the tone of it.

"Yeah, who is this, Elliot?" a woman with way too dark lipstick glared at Marc. She was sitting on the bar in a long black skirt with a slit almost as long as the skirt itself, high heels dangling off her toes and in danger of falling to the floor a few feet below her.

"A couple travelers who need somewhere to stay," Elliot replied. "Doctor, Marc, the woman who just spoke is Eloise. That's Jasper, the one sitting down, and that's his twin Julian--I'm sure you can tell--Elizabeth, she's the one with the black rose in her hair--" He reeled off some more names, making Marc's head spin.

"How do you do?" the Doctor smiled charmingly at them all. "I'm the Doctor. This is my friend Marc Davis."  
"Hi," said Marc.

"I'll sign you in," Elliot said and disappeared.

Marc suddenly hoped the Doctor had proper currency. She sat down at the only empty table, lying her backpack at her feet. She could feel everyone's eyes on her. _God_, she thought to herself, _talk about conscious drama! _All she knew was they wore great costumes but way too much black was around.

The Doctor sat down next to Marc. "Interesting group of people, don't you think?" he murmured under his breath.

"Weird. I want all their clothes."

Elliot came back a minute later. The silence was still oppressive. He looked around the group. "Come on, people!" he exclaimed. "Make them feel welcome!" He went over to Eloise, started talking quietly to her. Gradually, the others relaxed, began their own conversations again. Someone set down a couple drinks at Marc's and the Doctor's table.

Marc took a sip. "Hey, that tastes good," she said in surprise. It reminded her of a cappuccino. The Doctor sniffed his and left it alone, making an expressive face.

Someone started up the music again; a few people started dancing. Elliot was suddenly at Marc's side. "Would you care to dance?" He bowed to her again.

Marc looked up at him, wondering where the hell he'd come from. "No, really, thanks anyway. I should get some sleep."

"Oh, a morning person?" Jasper said from the next table, leaning back to see Marc.

Marc looked around Elliot to look back at him. "No. It's been a long night." She glanced up at Elliot again and stood up. "But maybe one dance'll be all right." She noticed that as soon as she left the table, a woman took her place at the Doctor's side.

"So," Elliot asked, "where do you come from?"  
Marc laughed quietly, relaxing in his arms. "Long long ago and far far away," she told him, her bright blue eyes shining with amusement. He looked bewildered. "It's a long, complicated story," she relented. "That I can't explain anyway. Right now I'm just…travelling, seeing the—world. I guess."

"Really? I've lived all my life here." He sounded wistful. "Sometimes I'd like to travel. I've heard so much about other places…"

"Yeah," Marc said, "and it hurts so bad 'cos you can't go visit 'em."

"Exactly," Elliot replied. "You understand."

They spent a long time dancing and talking, until Marc began to yawn. Elliot gently sat her down next to the Doctor and gave the Time Lord two keys for two separate rooms. "Go up one flight of stairs; your rooms are on the right."

"Thank you," the Doctor replied gravely. He supported Marc out of the room and left her asleep on the bed in her room. He went exploring.

Downstairs in the pub, Elliot sat down at the recently vacated table. Jasper, Julian, and Eloise joined him, almost seeming to appear out of nowhere.

"What was that all about, old boy?" Julian asked. He was rolling up his sleeves again; his bangs hung in his eyes like always. "New recruits?"

"No. They needed somewhere to stay; this was the closest place."

"Oh really?" Eloise scoffed. Her black eyes glinted dangerously. "And you were just making sure that Marc girl felt comfortable too when you danced with her I suppose?"

"Oh ho!" Jasper smirked. His bangs were never in his eyes, though they were as long as his twin brother's; he made sure of that. "Trouble in paradise, Elliot old boy?"  
"Don't start, Jas," Elliot snapped. "She looked completely lost. I know how she feels, hanging around with you lot," he added spitefully. "I think she's very new to this place."

Jasper leant back out of the light, his face becoming shadowed. "That sounds perfect to me," he said.

"Indeed," his brother added, his face also obscured by darkness. "This could prove very fun."

  * * * 

The Doctor found a back stairway and slipped out of the building. He walked noiselessly around the building, senses alert, and listened.

* * *

"What about the chap with her, the Doctor?" Jasper said. "What was he like?"

"A cold fish," Marguerite answered, joining them. She sat on the table between the twins, casually resting her feet in Julian's lap. "I couldn't get a thing out of him, but he was doing his damndest to find out about me. Us. All of us." She waved a hand, encompassing the whole room and all the young people still in it.

Julian took off her shoes and rubbed her feet absently. "You didn't tell him anything, I hope?"

"Of course not," Marguerite snorted. "But he scared me."  
"Scared you?" Julian blinked up at her in surprise, raising an eyebrow.

She flushed and shrugged, trying to throw off her discomfiture. "Yeah. He did."

"Hmm," murmured Jasper thoughtfully. "Who _have _you brought into our circle, Elliot?"  
"I guess we'll find out," Elliot replied.

* * * 

The Doctor slipped away from the pub window and found his way back to the other door, going up to his room, thinking about what he'd just heard. He waited for morning.

* * * 

Marc was up early next morning, still in the same clothes from last night, and reading a fascinating library book about Lady Jane Grey, the fifteen-year-old who ruled England for nine days.

Somebody knocked on her door. "Come in," Marc called without looking up.

The Doctor peeked in. Marc was sprawled on her bed, propped up by pillows, her backpack at her bare feet. She looked up at the Time Lord over her eyeglasses. Her eyes were brown, he was startled to find out. "Morning, Doc."  
"Good morning, Marc," the Doctor shut her door behind him. "How do you feel?"  
She shrugged. "Fine. Could murder a cup of coffee." She made room for him on the bed, shoving her backpack out of the way, and he sat cross-legged, facing her. She closed her book and put it down beside her. "So. Who are you?"

"The Doctor," he replied with equanimity.

"Yeah, so you told me. Tell me more. You--you're not even human, are you?" She'd laid in her bed a long time that morning, thinking about the night before and the Doctor, seriously considering what the hell she'd gotten herself into.

"No, I'm a Time Lord."

Huh. Makes sense. "Are there a lot of your type around?"  
"No, not really, they mainly stick to living on Gallifrey, my home planet."

"And you don't?"  
"I like travelling."

"So do I."

"I thought so, or else you wouldn't have come with me." The Doctor shifted slightly. "And where do you come from originally?"  
"Indiana. But I go to college in St. Louie. What were you doing at Jan's party anyway?"  
He grinned. "Enjoying the music."

Marc grinned back. "Come on," he continued, standing up. "Let's go find that coffee."

* * *

Marc looked around for Elliot, disappointed when she didn't see him. She and the Doctor sat down at the same table from last night and ordered coffee and breakfast rolls.

"So what do you major in? Didn't you say something about history?"

Marc nodded. "That's right."

"And what particular part of history are you interested in?"

"Almost anything," she said promptly. "I have to do a report about something from the Tudor era in England--that's why I was reading about Jane Grey--but I'm interested in the Romanovs, the Louis', the hippies, the ancients, anything and anyone."

The Doctor smiled. "Fascinating, isn't it? Your history, I mean. It's amazing what you humans get up to."

"Ain't that the truth." Marc sighed with contentment as she slurped the last of her coffee. "Much better. What do you want to do today?"

"Explore of course. We've only been here since last night; I want to find out about this place."

"Hmm. I'll go with you, I guess."

While the Doctor paid for breakfast, Marc looked around one last time for the man from last night. She still didn't see him.

They left the hotel.

* * *

Marc and the Doctor had been wandering around the small town all day, looking through stalls at a street market, listening to a couple street musicians, walking through an art museum. The Doctor bought Marc a necklace made of a sort of silver rock found only on this planet, or so the Time Lord claimed. She put it on right away.

They returned to the hotel in the early evening, the sun reluctantly setting and leaving behind twilight. Elliot was sitting at the bar when they walked in.

"Doctor, Marc," he said, smiling. He looked puzzled. "Don't either of you have any other clothes with you?"

He wore the same leather jacket, but with a tight black t-shirt and something akin to black jeans.

"Actually, d'you know where I could get some clothes like yours and your friends?" Marc asked, sitting herself next to Elliot. She felt uncomfortable in the bar; she was only nineteen, but her feet ached from standing and walking around all day. "They're totally awesome."

"Oh really?" Elliot replied with an amused raised eyebrow. He slid off his own barstool. "Come on. I know where we should go."

Marc looked at the Doctor. "Doc?"  
"Go ahead," the Doctor agreed, frowning at Elliot as he handed Marc some money. "But be back before it gets too dark, please."  
Marc looked puzzled. "Sure, Doc." She followed Elliot out.

"The Doctor," Elliot said as they walked down the road toward the shops. "'Who is he, exactly? I mean, is he related to you? A teacher? I don't quite understand your relationship."

_We don't have one_, Marc wanted to say. She'd been alternating between excited wonder and uncomfortable misgivings all day as she wandered around the town with the Time Lord. "He's a friend, a--a fellow traveler. A sort of teacher," she added awkwardly, floundering as she thought about conversations they'd had over the day. The Doctor could be fascinating to listen to when he wasn't being obscure or bizarre or showing off.

Elliot nodded and turned abruptly into a shop doorway. "In here."

Marc looked around inside. "Oh yes. Definitely. This is exactly what I was looking for." The store was full of clothes like those she'd seen last night, only in a wider variety of colors. Her eye alighted upon a black silk skirt, and then she saw a midnight blue velvet top and hoped she had enough money.

When they left, Marc wore the skirt with a white shirt that had frills instead of cuffs and black, high-heeled boots that looked Victorian to Marc. She carried her other clothes in a bag along with other purchases she'd made, including a dark green satin dress the color of the Doctor's frock coat. She thought they'd make a lovely pair when she wore it.

Elliot went into the bar; Marc ran upstairs to put her bags away. She came back down and found all the same people doing pretty much the same thing as the night before. The Doctor was nowhere to be found, but Marc wasn't worried yet.

"Oh, fitting right in, are we?" Jasper said, at Marc's side and still in his black coat and bolo tie, still undone. She looked up at him, illogically afraid, wishing everyone would quit sneaking up on her. Elizabeth was hanging onto Jasper's arm, wearing a knee-length black dress with an outer lace covering of the same color embroidered with roses going below her knees.

"Love your dress," Marc told her sincerely. She looked up at Jasper. "I asked Elliot to take me someplace so I could get these clothes. If you could see my wardrobe at home, you would know I like this kind of thing."  
He raised a sardonic eyebrow but left her alone, swinging Elizabeth onto the dance floor.

"You must excuse my brother," Julian said from behind Marc. "He's always melodramatic like that."

She turned around. "But you're not?" Marc questioned, raising a sardonic eyebrow.

He grinned. "Not always. It seems Elliot's abandoned you," he added, nodding discreetly to a corner of the room. Elliot was leaning in close to Eloise, murmuring persuasively about something while she listened stone-faced. Marguerite and Xavier danced in front of them, obscuring Marc's view. "Would you care to dance with me instead?" Julian continued.

Marc curtsied. "Certainly."

The room was dimly lit, the music an odd mixture of what Marc would consider Irish and classical, with lots of flutes and violins. She was having fun, talking to Julian, trading insults and witticisms with Jasper, comparing notes on clothes with Marguerite and Jasmine. She hardly missed the Doctor, was slightly disappointed Elliot had disappeared with Eloise.

Marc was dancing again, whirling around the room, laughing at something Xavier said, when Elliot tapped Xavier's shoulder and cut in.

"Oh," said Marc teasingly, "you think I'll take you back that easily, eh?"

Elliot smiled tightly. "I had to talk to Eloise. You must understand. She was very upset."

"Uh-huh." He had gold-brown eyes that made an interesting contrast with his black hair. "Sure." _I'd be upset too_, she thought to herself, _if I were losing you_. _And she is losing you, isn't she?_

Elliot cocked his head to one side, studying her face. "You're very beautiful," he said. She flushed; no one ever considered her beautiful, or if they did, they didn't tell her about it. "I mean it," he insisted. "That outfit suits you superbly. I'm glad I met you."

"Yeah?" Marc leant in closer as a slow song started. She gently laid her head on Elliot's shoulder. "I'm glad I met you, too."

* * *

The Doctor was taking a walk. He was in the downtown area of the small city, paying attention to what was going on around him. Something here felt wrong, out of sync, but that could just be because something always went wrong when he was around.

The sky was almost dark; a moon was rising low in the sky. A small group of people stood outside what had been pointed out to him as the city hall. Some held placards, others milled around, yelling things out. One sign said, WHAT'S HAPPENING TO OUR CHILDREN? Another said WE NEED ANSWERS.

The Doctor walked up to a young man with receding, thin pale hair. "What's going on?" the Time Lord asked.

"Don't you know?" said the other man. "This has been going on for weeks. I thought the whole world knew by now."

The Time Lord frowned, concern nagging at the back of him mind. "Knew what?"  
"People keep disappearing. Mostly kids in their teens and twenties. The numbers get bigger every day."

The Doctor stared at the young man. "Tell me more."

* * *

Marc was finally worried about the Doctor. "Hey," she said, pausing by a table where the twins, Eloise, Jasmine, and Stuart sat. "Have you seen the Doctor lately? I can't find him anywhere."

Eloise just glared at her. Marc frowned back at her. Julian shook his head. "He's not been here all night."

"All_ night?_ Are you sure?"  
"Believe me, dear girl, "Jasper said, "we would remember seeing your friend."

Marc gave him a puzzled look and drifted away, joining Elliot at the bar. "Marc," Elliot said in concern, "What's wrong?"

"The Doc's disappeared."

He frowned. "He's probably just gone out somewhere, to look around or something. Maybe he met someone."

Marc nodded distractedly. "Maybe. What time is it?"

"Mmm, around midnight, I think."

"Really?" she answered in surprise. "Maybe I should go to bed."

"Good grief," Jasper said. "You really _are _a morning person, aren't you?"

Marc whirled around to face him, breathing deeply to calm down. "No. I'm tired. I was up very early this morning."

"I rest my case."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Elliot. "God, you all sneak up on me," she muttered. The door opened; she looked up hopefully.

"Come on," Elliot said, taking her hand and leading her onto the dance floor. "Let's dance. I'm sure your friend's all right; you need to stop worrying."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. All right."

They danced a couple songs, then Elliot sent Marc to get them both drinks. He went up to Julian, who sat at a table close to the fireplace, and hissed in his ear, "You don't know anything about Marc's friend, do you?"

"Who, the Doctor?" Julian asked in surprise. "No. None of us have seen him since yesterday."

"Good." Elliot grinned at Marc as she came up. "Thanks, luv. I'm parched."

"I see you've already made her your slave," Jasper commented. "Well, I'm sure Eloise is glad to be out of _that_ job."

Marc smiled sweetly at Jasper and batted her eyes. "Maybe I should make you _my_ slave," she whispered huskily.

"Oooh," crowed Julian, "I'd love to see that."

"Well you never bloody will," scowled his brother, glaring hatefully at Marc.

"No, I suppose not," sighed the other twin. "But I can dream."

Marc grinned at their banter, then remembered the Doctor. She frowned and slipped out of the hotel. Elliot was the only one to notice her go.

He found her marching briskly down the road, her face even whiter than usual with cold in the moonlight. Her cheeks, dark lips, and turquoise eyes stood out as the only splashes of colour on her face. Her blue eyes fascinated Elliot; they were such an unusual color, making her seem even more exotic to him than just because of her personality.

"Marc, wait up!" he called, jogging lightly after her. "You shouldn't be alone this late at night," Elliot said, wondering at the irony of his words. He wondered if she could tell how hypocritical he felt. "Not everyone's as nice as my friends and I," he added sardonically. "Marc..." he realized she was grinning. "What?"

She shook her head, black hair hanging in her eyes. "You're just about the first person I've met who didn't gape in open-mouthed astonishment when I said my name was Marc."

Elliot frowned in confusion. "Why would I stare in open-mouthed astonishment? I'll admit I've never met anyone named Marc before, but I don't see what's so odd..."

"Where I come from, Marc's a boy's name, definitely not a girl's name. I shortened it because I dislike my real name."

"Why, what is it?"

Marc grinned teasingly. "Wouldn't you like to know? Well, I'm not gonna say." She reached the park and stopped walking, an odd look of intensity on her face he didn't understand. The trees were black and spindly against the midnight blue sky. "It's beautiful," she breathed.

"Yes," Elliot said, staring at her instead of the trees. She stood out starkly in the moonlight. She shivered. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just cold," she said.

"Oh. Here." Elliot took off his black leather jacket and gently dropped it on Marc's shoulders.

Marc looked up at him, eyes shining in the darkness. "Thanks."

* * *

The man's name was Richard, the Doctor found out. He showed the Time Lord to a café and they sat down at a secluded table to talk.

"There aren't many homeless people in this town," Richard explained. "But now there's none at all. And kids are disappearing too. My sister--" he stopped.

"How long has this been going on?" the Doctor asked to distract Richard.

"A few months, maybe longer." He shifted uncomfortably. "We're not exactly sure..."

The Doctor said it for him. "No one knows how long the homeless have been disappearing, because no one cares if there's one less homeless person around or not. But none of these people have been seen again?"  
Richard shook his head, ignoring the drink the waitress sat in front of him. "A few kids have been acting weird lately. They've started hanging around with a group who came here not too long ago. They're completely changed. We're getting desperate."

The Doctor kept asking questions and the two talked long into the night. Finally the Doctor started guiltily, realizing the time.

"I have to leave," he said abruptly, standing up, his chair almost falling over behind him. Richard stopped speaking mid-sentence, gaping up at the Time Lord. "I'm keeping a friend waiting. Thank you for talking to me."  
Richard snorted mirthlessly. "No problem there." He took a napkin off the table and a pen out of his suit pocket and scribbled something down. "My address," he handed the napkin to the Doctor. "If you can help, please come talk to me again."

The Doctor took the napkin and smiled at Richard. "Of course."

* * *

"Please tell me your real name," Elliot pleaded. Marc hadn't found the Doctor outside the TARDIS and she couldn't get to the inside without him, so she decided to stop worrying. The two were slowly strolling back to the hotel, Marc still wearing Elliot's jacket. It was warm and heavy and smelled of him.

"Nope," Marc shook her head, black hair flying in her eyes.

"Oh please," he begged.

Marc sighed and rolled her eyes in mock-exasperation. "Oh, very well. Marcella."

"Marcella," Elliot repeated, tasting the name. "That's a beautiful name."

"Thank you."  
They walked some more. "Where do you live, anyway? Not in the hotel?" Marc asked.

"Not too far from there," Elliot answered. "Across that bridge," he pointed, "the second house from the right. I live on the top story, Xavier and Jasmine on the bottom."

Marc saw the Doctor heading for the hotel. "Hey, Doctor!" she hollered, breaking into a run, picking her long skirt up in her hands and her heels clicking loudly on the pavement, Elliot following more slowly. The Doctor looked up at the sound of his name.

His worried frown cleared when he saw Marc. "Oh, Marc, I'm sorry," he said. "I completely forgot the time." He looked up at Elliot. "Hullo, Elliot."

Something in his pale blue eyes made Elliot shiver. "Hello, Doctor." He glanced at his watch. "I should be heading home. Good-bye, Doctor, Marc." He quickly walked away.

"Hey, wait!" Marc called and caught him up. She grinned up at him. "Call me Marcella. It sounds right coming from you."

Elliot grinned back, pleased. Marc caught her breath. "All right, Marcella."

Marc skipped back to the Doctor, who was still frowning at Elliot's retreating back. "I had fun," she said, taking the Time Lord's arm. She led him into the warm, lighted hotel. "Did you?"

The Doctor half-smiled at her, half-frowned, a troubled look in his pale eyes. "I don't think so," he replied. "I believe the phrase I want is, 'The game's afoot.' Something's going on, Marc. I hope I haven't led you into something dangerous."

"Of course not," Marc scoffed as they walked upstairs. "Nothing's wrong, Doc. It's your imagination. Are you always this paranoid?"

"It's not paranoia when the Universe really is out to get you," the Doctor retorted gloomily. "Now, did I say that originally or did someone else?"

Marc shook her head, laughing, and let go of his arm. "You're weird, Doc. G'night!"

The Doctor paused at her door. She couldn't see his face; it was lost in shadow, but his voice was soft, genuinely worried. "Be careful, Marc."

Marc's brow creased in puzzlement. "Sure, Doctor. Of course."

He sighed. "There's no of course about it. Good night, Marc."

He closed his door behind him.

chapter three

Marc slept late the next day and didn't clatter down to the dining room until almost after noon. The Doctor was sitting in a dark corner, reading a thin newspaper.

"Hi, Doc," Marc yawned, seating herself across from him.

The Doctor put his paper down, still in his velvet Victorian gear. Marc wondered if he never changed or if he had lots of sets of the same exact clothes, right down to cravat and paisley vest. "Hullo, sleepyhead," he replied cheerfully. He seemed to have completely gotten over his brooding from the night before. "I was beginning to wonder is you were ever going to wake up."

"Yeah, well, I was up late. You were too. And I didn't get much sleep the night before."

"All right, I understand. No need for all the explanations."

Marc sipped her coffee. "Can we go back to the TARDIS? I want to find something else to wear...you do have clothes in there, don't you?" she added, an uncertain note creeping into her voice as the idea occurred to her.

The Doctor grinned mischievously. "Do I have clothes in there? If you'd been travelling with me longer, you'd know not to ask that."  
"That sounds ominous."

"You'll find out."

Marc shrugged and finished her coffee.

"Through here," the Doctor said after they entered the console room an hour later. He showed her down a long, dimly lit corridor to a seemingly random door and opened it. "Voila," he said, gesturing grandly inside.

Marc took a peek. "Wow," she said, her eyebrows arching. "I am suitably impressed."

"I'll leave you to it then."

"I'll try not to get lost," was Marc's reply.

The Doctor paused as he turned away. "You haven't even seen the rest of the old girl."

There it was again. Marc had to ask. "'Old girl'?" she called after him.

He turned around and walked backwards. "The TARDIS of course." He swung around again, never breaking stride.

_Damn he's good_, Marc thought as she watched him disappear around a corner. She slipped into the large, overfilled room again and studied its expanse. She was overwhelmed by costumes from all types of centuries and cultures--and planets no doubt. Finally she hesitantly began picking out an outfit and ended up with a white cuffed shirt, black suspenders, baggy black pants, the boots she'd just purchased, and her own black fedora.

"It's eighties transvestite day," she told the Doctor when she found the console room after being lost for twenty minutes. She also wore Elliot's leather jacket from the night before. "I think I'm gonna take this back to Elliot," Marc told the Doctor, fingering the jacket.

"Must you?" the Doctor sounded disappointed. "I was hoping we could explore some more. Actually, I wanted to find a library and do some research."

"Research?" Marc pulled a face. "You know, for being a history major, I really hate research."

"Why am I not surprised?" the Doctor sighed. He was looking at her oddly, a way Marc didn't like. Studying her, reading her. "All right, go, Marc. Just--be careful. I'll meet you back at the hotel in--oh, five hours, all right?"

"Okay, Doctor," Marc nodded, confused. She walked up to the main doors, then paused and looked back at the Time Lord. "What's wrong, Doc? Why are you so worried?"

He gazed at her. "You probably wouldn't believe me."

Marc snorted. "Yeah, like I don't believe all _this_." She waved a hand around, encompassing the whole room.

"Don't go anywhere alone not in public with any of the people you've met--Elliot, the twins, Eloise, Marguerite, any of them," the Doctor specified. "Please."

Marc drew back. "C'mon, Doc. They're my friends."

"You hardly know them." His face was set, impassive.

"I hardly know _you_ but I'm trusting you." She was finding it difficult to keep her temper. If only he'd tell her what was bothering him!

The Doctor's face softened. "Yes, but you can trust me."

Marc stared at him for a moment, trying to concentrate, work things out in her mind, then nodded. "Okay, Doctor. I promise."

The Doctor opened the doors. Marc walked outside.

* * *

Marc hoped it was the right house. It would be really embarrassing to bother a stranger. She trudged up the outside stairs to the second story and knocked.

Five minutes later Marc was ready to run from the house when Elliot opened the door, wearing a white t-shirt and boxers, his hair disheveled and his eyes half-closed. "Oh. Marc."

"I came to give you back your jacket," she said. Her voice was breathless with nerves. "I'm sorry, were you taking a nap?"

"No--yes." He winced. "Damn, that sunlight's bright. Come in." He took her hand and gently pulled her inside, his touch cold and tingling. She stifled a gasp at the feeling.

The room inside was dark with shadows, the heavy brocade curtains closed. A single black floor lamp was turned on; the furniture was spare and elegant, all black and white.

"I like your house," Marc said.

"Thanks. I haven't been living in it very long," Elliot said. "D'you want something to eat or drink? I'm just going to get dressed--" He was already heading down the hallway as he spoke. "You can leave my jacket anywhere," his voice was muffled by his closed bedroom door.

"Okay." Marc laid the jacket on a chair and sat down on the small couch, trying to relax.

He came back a moment later, in shirt and pants, his hair still unbrushed and becomingly ruffled. "Did you want anything?" He pointed vaguely behind him to the kitchen, but Marc shook her head.

"No, I'm okay. Thanks anyway."

Elliot nodded, absently picking up his jacket and folding it. "So I give good directions, I guess," he said with a tiny smile.

"Yep." Marc also nodded, politely and nervously smiling back, then stood up and wandered around the room, looking at pictures on the walls. When she looked round to comment on one of them, she was unnerved to note Elliot had disappeared without her realizing.

"Sorry," he apologized, hurriedly coming back into the room. "I just--had to put my jacket away." He looked at the picture she stood in front of. It was dark colors, the pond and park down the road from the hotel at night. "Eloise painted that."

"Mm-hmm. So you live here alone?"

"Well, Jasmine and Xavier are downstairs, but..."

"I mean, Eloise doesn't live here with you?"

"Good grief, no," Elliot stared at Marc blankly. "Why would you think that?"

Marc shrugged, trying to hide her confusion. "Dunno. Just an idea I got from all of you."

His face cleared, became embarrassed. "Oh. Yes. We...used to live together. Um...I broke up with her a month ago, but we're still good friends..." he said the phrase ironically. Marc assumed because it was such a cliche thing to say, forgetting this was a different time period on a different planet and they might not have the same cliches.

Marc nodded. "Where does everyone else live? Nearby? D'you all always meet at the pub?"

"A lot of the time, yes. Eloise, Elizabeth, and Marguerite own the pub and hotel."

"Ah. That makes sense."

"Rather. The twins share a house a couple doors down, and Stuart lives across the street. Some of the others are further away, but the hotel's pretty much the central location for all of us." He seemed uncomfortable. "I've only know them all a little less than a year; they can still—surprise me." _And scare me_ he added silently, looking very young all of a sudden to Marc.

"So they all live around here, huh?" she said. "Cool. Is that all you do everyday, party?"  
Elliot half-smiled, half-frowned. "Pretty much."

* * *

The Doctor found a library, close to where the city hall was situated and where he'd found the picketers and Richard. He quickly found the books he wanted and began flipping through them at an incredible rate, his frown constantly growing deeper.

He wondered if the library kept old newspapers.

* * *

"Where's your Doctor friend, Marcella?" Elliot asked. He and Marc were walking back to the hotel. They were early--Marc still had an hour before the Doctor's rendezvous--but she wanted to change again for that night. The sun was already setting, and a strong, cold wind was blowing Marc's hair in her face.

Marc grinned. "So you _did_ remember. I dunno--he mentioned something about research. Maybe he went to a library?"

Elliot frowned. "Does he do a lot of research?"

Marc shrugged. "Beats me. He certainly does know a lot." They stepped up the porch to the front door. "I've gotta go change, okay?"

"All right. I doubt anyone else is here yet. I'll go find one of the girls, talk to them." He disappeared down a back hallway while Marc tripped upstairs to her room.

* * *

The Doctor hurried down the street, heading for the numbered house Richard had written down. Someone had given him directions to this street, a nice young girl with a backpack who reminded him of Marc.

The Doctor bounded up the front steps to the house and knocked urgently, hoping fervently he wasn't a total fool to not insist on Marc coming with him and knowing he _was_ a total fool.

But he couldn't force her to listen to him, not when she hardly knew him. She'd already been frustrated and angry with him in the TARDIS early this afternoon, resisting his words. If the Doctor was a man to swear, he'd be using the worst curse words he could think of right now.

Richard opened the door finally. "Yes? Oh, Doctor. What's wrong?" he added when he took a closer look at the Time Lord's worried face.

"I think I might know what's going on," the Doctor replied from the steps below Richard as he looked up at the younger man, his face shadowed in the twilight. "May I come in please? I don't think I have much time."

* * *

Elliot found the twins in the back with Marguerite and Elizabeth. "Hullo," he said, "what's happening? I've never known you two to be up so early." He'd never seen the twins at the hotel this early either, not unless they'd spent the whole day there with the girls.

Jasper glanced at his brother, then at Elliot. "We were discussing you friend. Marc, you know."

Elliot scowled. "Don't make me angry, Jasper."

Jasper snorted derisively. His look of contempt made Elliot's teeth scrape together. "Please, Elliot, spare us the dramatics. I don't think I could stand it."

Julian rolled his expressive grey eyes. "Look who's talking, Jas, old chap."

Jasper adjusted his undone tied to the exact angle for the best carelessly thrown on look. His long black coat had that recently laundered look, Elliot noticed; Jasper had it washed at least once a week. Julian at least wore different clothes once in a while. "We want to know what's going on between you and Miss Marc. You seem to be getting to know her very well."

"Eloise couldn't stay very long," Julian added in his identical dry, elegant accent. "She had to find something to kick. She's not best pleased with you, you know, Elliot. She feels betrayed. And used. Like a means to an end."

Elliot gritted his teeth again, but he couldn't think what he could do. These people were so powerful, even though they didn't look it. Why had he allowed himself to get involved with them? "Shut up, Jules, you're beginning to sound like your brother."

Julian shrugged indifferently. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. Either I would start sounding like him, or he like me."

"It just happened to my advantage," Jasper added.

"Well, Elliot?" Elizabeth interrupted. "What are you going to do?"

Elliot couldn't answer.

* * *

"You must be joking," Richard said.

The Doctor's blue eyes stared into Richard's with a disturbing intensity. "I'm not."

* * *

Marc slowly pulled the dress over her arms, delighting in the feel of the fabric and texture. She'd totally forgotten about the Doctor. Her heart was beating too fast; she felt nervous, excited. She knew something was going to happen tonight; there was a feeling of expectation, a zinging excitement in the air, permeating the whole building--the whole city, it felt like to an exhilarated Marc.

It was either an ending or a beginning.

* * *

Richard sat back in his chair, taking a deep breath. "It's impossible," he said, trying to make sense of what the Doctor had just told him.

"But logical surely?" the Doctor leant forward in his seat, his tone persuasive and urgent. Richard blinked. "Doesn't it make sense? First the homeless, then the young people--not children, but teens, young adults. Disappearing or changing. And then..."

Richard found he was beginning to believe the Time Lord.

* * *

Elliot sat down, thinking. He was concentrating so hard one could see it in his face, see the thoughts moving behind his handsome, tense face.

Marguerite rubbed his shoulders. The twins and Elizabeth had already left; the two were alone.

She bent down and whispered in his ear, "It's your decision."

She left.

Elliot buried his face in his hands.

* * *

Marc glanced at her watch, looked out the window, back at her watch again. The sun was gone, and the Doctor should have been back ages ago.

Marc's brow creased slightly. What had the Doctor been so worried about? And for being a high and mighty Lord of Time, you'd think he could keep better track of appointments. She was suddenly afraid, cursing herself for not listening to the Time Lord. God, he was the one with all the experience, the knowledge--she hardly knew him, but she knew that much. Why had she been so certain nothing around here was dangerous? They were humans, weren't they? And Marc couldn't trust human nature, no matter how much time had passed since she was alive. The Doctor was right. She was a skeptic.

So why hadn't she been more cautious? Grief, she'd actually gone and hung around alone in a stranger's apartment, something she would never have done back home. A cute stranger, granted, but a stranger nonetheless.

Marc shook her head. The Doctor would be back soon, and she hadn't been hurt or even threatened yet, which was much better than you could say for a lot of America in her own time. She'd be fine. And going down to the pub—a public place—would certainly not break her promise to the Doc, even though she'd already technically broken it by going to Elliot's.

Marc began putting on makeup, feeling much better.

* * *

Richard stood up. "All right, Doctor. I think I believe you."

The Doctor sat back in relief. "Good," he sighed.

"So what should I do?"

The Time Lord also stood up, pacing and planning quickly. "Get some people together, your picketers from last night should do fine, whoever. And the proper equipment, of course, though do try to avoid using it if you can."

Richard answered dryly, "Of course. What'll you be doing in the meantime?"

"Saving a friend," was the grim reply.

* * *

Marc checked her appearance in the mirror one last time, then tripped downstairs with eager anticipation.

* * *

Elliot sat at the table still in the same position. He hadn't moved in half-an-hour. He was remembering Marc from last night, walking around in the park in the dark, the moon shining in her eyes and on her black clothes. She was the perfect type of person for this group; it was obvious. It had been obvious since the moment he ran into her. She'd fit in better than he did, always so uncomfortable around them all. He hated their melodramatics, their conscious drama and over-emotionalism. But Marc seemed to revel in that kind of thing; hell, she even _looked_ like them, with her black hair and white face and dark lips and old-fashioned, fancy clothes.

But...

* * * 

The Doctor was running, wondering how much time he had left. He wasn't sure why he was so certain something would happen tonight, but he wasn't going to start doubting his instincts now.

He hoped he wasn't already too late.

* * *

Everyone froze when Marc swept into the bar. This time she was prepared for it, had hoped for it in fact.

She wore the dark satin dress she'd bought yesterday, the one that matched the Doctor's velvet coat. The satin fit like a slim glove over her body and flowed down to the floor, hiding her black heels. She wore makeup on her face; normally she only put on lipstick, but now she had mascara, eye shadow, blush, the works. Her hair was at its best: silky, blue-black straight strands falling into place around her face, her exotic blue eyes dark and glittering in the low light in the room.

She felt like a young goddess or a queen.

Jasmine circled around Marc. "Fantastic taste," she pronounced.

Marc grinned. "Ain't it though?"

* * *

Elliot watched Marc's back as she sat down at a table with Jasper and Elizabeth and Stuart. She looked regal, exotic, a fascinating character to get to know better. The dress showed off her figure to best advantage and was perfect for her personality. He stood in the shadowed doorway, ignored by everyone. Marc stood up and followed the elegant and wry Julian onto the dance floor, taking his arms to dance. She laughed at something he said, her eyes glittering in the darkness. There was something wild about her, something different from everyone Elliot had ever met, even Eloise and her lot. She seemed drunk on her own beauty. Or maybe that was just Elliot's personal feelings getting in the way.

He walked in.

* * *

"Hi, Elliot," Marc said, looking up and smiling charmingly. Julian was leaning against the fireplace behind her, talking to a young woman Marc didn't know. Elliot stared down at her, his face tense, too serious.

"Care to dance?" he said.

Marc held out her hand, feeling deliciously majestic. "Certainly."

The song playing was fast, intense, needed lots of energy. Elliot moved with quick grace, spinning Marc and holding her in his arms. He was relaxing, his face losing its set look. Marc laughed giddily, loving his attention and the dance and the music, and he grinned back breathlessly.

Neither noticed Eloise.

* * *

Eloise stood framed in the doorway, lost in shadows and ignored by the group in the pub. She watched Marc and Elliot in frozen bitterness, watched Elliot put his arms around Marc so casually, so easily, the way he used to do with Eloise. Her heart ached with her own loneliness; she couldn't even feel jealous or hate Marc.

She could only feel her own pain.

* * *

Marc sat down again, breathless. Elliot stood over her, abruptly tense again. "Come with me," he said, holding his hand out.

Marc gave him her hand again, shocked by how cold it felt already after the heated dance. "Where?" she asked, remembering the Doctor's warning. Jasper was staring at Elliot, his eyes full of some deep meaning, but Elliot avoided the other man's grey eyes.

"Upstairs. I want you to meet the resident ghost."

Marc considered for a quick moment, biting her lip in concentration but still somehow managing to look regal in her dress. She stood up. "Okay." She wanted to see a ghost, and she reasoned the hotel was a public place. No broken promises. She'd only be up a couple flights; they could hear her if she screamed out or shouted or something. Besides, she really trusted Elliot.

She would be safe.

Marc followed Elliot upstairs.

* * *

Eloise watched the two leave the pub hand-in-hand and turned away.

* * *

"A ghost huh?" Marc said when they reached the fourth and top floor. "Who is it? A murder victim? A convicted person who was really innocent and committed suicide to avoid his fate?"

Elliot glanced at her askance. "How melodramatic. It's a young woman," he whispered, still holding her hand like it was a life preserver. He peered down the hall at a window at the other end of the hall where the moon shone brightly in. "She's harmless, been here for decades, long before the girls bought the place. She always creeps across the hall to sit at the window."

"You don't know who she is?"  
Elliot shrugged. "No one does. We think she might have been a maid or daughter of the house when it was privately owned. Shh!" he pointed.

Marc gasped and shivered. A young woman, pale and insubstantial, drifted to the window after appearing in front of one of the doors lining the corridor. The woman sat down on the window seat and looked down, her body totally still. Marc couldn't make out her face or details on her clothes; she couldn't see what expression the woman wore or what class of person she had been in life. Not that that would help Marc, coming from a different time period and planet. She had to keep reminding herself of that.

"She's waiting," Marc said abruptly.

Elliot nodded. "You're probably right."

Marc crept closer to the ghost, joining her on the window seat tentatively. She was grinning; she couldn't believe she was sitting in a hotel on a distant planet far into her future looking at a ghost. It was fantastic!

Elliot crept up unnoticed behind Marc, his mouth open.

He had fangs.

* * *

The Doctor ran into the pub. Conversations stopped.

He looked around, his eyes blazing. "Where's Marc?"  
Jasper was suddenly in front of him, his twin behind. "With Elliot," said the young man in front.

The Doctor glared at Jasper. "Where are they?" he growled.

"Upstairs," said Julian. The Time Lord whirled around to face him, body taut under frock coat.

Eloise took the Doctor's arm, her face deathly white. "They don't want to be bothered," she told him, her black eyes hard.

* * *

Marc glanced up to find Elliot and make a comment and was badly shocked to see him standing right over her. He closed his mouth with an audible _snap._

"Elliot?" she said, staring up at him. Her heart was thumping; the air was freezing. Things were happening too fast; the world was squeezing in on her, suffocating her. "Elliot, what's going on? Tell me," she commanded, trying not to panic and wondering why she wanted to panic in the first place.

Elliot knelt down in front of Marc and took her hand. "What are your feelings about vampires?" he asked in a conversational voice.

* * *

"Let me go," the Doctor practically snarled.

"Sorry, can't do that, old chap," Jasper grunted out, struggling with the Time Lord, amazed by his strength. "Eloise told you they don't want to be disturbed."

The Doctor swung around desperately, finding Eloise. She was standing by the door, an ugly look on her beautiful face. "Eloise!" he cried out. "Is this what you want? You realize you'll lose Elliot for good, don't you?"

Eloise turned away.

"_Listen_ to me, Eloise!" the Doctor's voice cracked, frantic to get through to her. "He's going to turn Marc, isn't he? Is that what you want? To lose Elliot? Don't you love him?"

He couldn't see Eloise's face. "Leave her alone, Doctor," said Julian harshly, swinging the Time Lord away from her again.

They all heard a scream. 

"_Marc!!!_" the Doctor yelled.

* * *

"V-vampires?" Marc stuttered out. "Uh...I'm gonna have to think about that one. My world view's changing even as we speak and I don't know if I believe they exist or not."

Elliot stared at Marc. "They do. Forgive me, but where do you come from? Not from this planet, obviously."

"How do you know that?" Marc asked nervously.

"Over a millennia ago the human population of our planet was almost wiped out by vampires. Almost, I say; the humans left all went to ground to rebuild their civilization--or just to survive--while the vampires supposedly starved to death.

"Only not all the vampires died out. There have always been a few around.

"Like us."

Marc realized. "Today, when I woke you up--you couldn't stand the sun--and then--"

"Couldn't stand the sun?" Elliot repeated blankly. "What're you talking about? Can you sleep with the sun shining in your eyes? I can't. I was sleeping in today; I've been having insomnia lately. Well, I keep all my curtains closed when I sleep; when you woke me up, I wasn't prepared for the brightness."

"But...but...." _But vampires aren't supposed to be able to stand the sun._

"Marcella," Elliot took her hand. His voice was gentle, persuasive. "I really like you, Marcella. You're beautiful and intelligent and fascinating. I'd like to get to know you better." He was staring up at Marc from his position kneeling on the floor, his brown eyes boring into her blue ones. "You could stay with us, Marcella. With me. Please?"

Marc screamed.

* * *

Eloise stood in one corner of the room, still seeing in her little mind's eye Elliot holding Marc, repeating the scene over and over in her mind. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream obscenities.

She wanted Elliot back.

She'd turned him herself. She'd loved him, like she hadn't loved anyone in decades, hell, centuries. He'd loved her back.

Right?  
The Doctor was yelling at her. "Is this what you want? You realize you'll be losing him, don't you?"

She turned away from the man, couldn't bear to listen to his words. They only echoed what she felt.

She didn't give a damn about Marc Davis. She didn't give a damn what happened to the child. She just wanted to be held again, to be loved.

Someone screamed.

* * *

The Doctor tore out of Jasper's grip and ran for the doors, surprising the vampire. The Time Lord was even stronger than he'd thought. The Doctor stopped, turned back to the crowd of darkly beautiful young people, and Jasper realized how well this strange Doctor could have fit in with his group.

"Get out. The people of this town know about you and they're coming to kill you." The Doctor glared at Eloise, his pale blue eyes burning. "You've lost."

He swept out of the room.

"Well," said Jasper, wiping his hands on his pants and looking around at the group with a single elegant eyebrow raised, once again the indolent gentleman who would never hold another man down, let alone kill anybody. How distasteful. Jasper straightened his tie. "He certainly knows how to make an exit. Should we believe him?"

The front door burst open.

* * *

Marc slipped around Elliot, tripping on her long skirt. "Stay away from me," she hissed in a hoarse voice. _Why doesn't someone come?_ She thought to herself, panicking again. _Are they all in on it? Why was I such a silly ass?_

He kept coming toward her, she kept backing away. He didn't look all that threatening really, except for the fangs. _Fangs!_ Marc thought to herself and wanted to burst into hysterical laughter. "Piss off!" she yelled at him, holding up her gorgeous skirt and kicking off her heels, backing into the stair railing at the end of the hall and almost falling over it. "I don't want you anywhere _near _me! _DOCTOR!!!" _she screamed, near tears, collapsing to the floor in a heap. How could she get away from this--thing? She was going to die here, die right now, on some strange planet by herself, away from her parents, her brother, her friends, and no one could save her.

"I'm here," the Doctor said from the top of the stairs.

chapter four

"I'm here," said the Doctor.

Marc sagged to the floor with overwhelming relief. The Time Lord stood with his hands on the banister, his eyes blazing. God, he looked _right_. He looked powerful and beautiful and ancient.

He looked like he could save the universe.

Elliot stopped moving. He glanced from Marc on the floor to the Doctor on the stairs, then held up his hands.

"I'll not hurt you," he said clearly. "Either of you." He took a deliberate step backward.

Marc looked up. The ghost was gone, she noticed inconsequentially and thought hysterically, _Perhaps it couldn't stand all the excitement!_

The Doctor stared at Elliot. "I believe you." He stepped forward, closer to Elliot. "Why aren't you going to hurt us?" Marc wanted to scream at him to get out of the vamp's way; the sod had _fangs_ for crying out loud.

Elliot appeared confused. "I-I don't want to." He took a deep breath. "I've not been--a vampire-- for very long, only a few months. I never really wanted this; I don't belong with these people. I was infatuated with Eloise and she offered me the chance to see everything I've always wanted to..." He now seemed lost and too young. "Please, are you going to turn me in?"

In contrast the Doctor looked much older than he had a few hours ago. "I already have. All your friends are probably fighting for their lives downstairs even as we speak."

Elliot nodded, then gave a heavy sigh. "Very well." He trudged toward the stairs, avoiding Marc. She tried to figure out how she felt about that, and realized she was embarrassed and disappointed he didn't want to be near her.

_Bloody hell. Make up your mind already, silly twit._

The Doctor caught the vampire's arm. "You don't have to go down there, you know. Not yet."

Marc wanted to start screaming again. "Doc," she hissed, "he's a vamp. Didn't you notice the fangs? You know--other people's _lifeblood_?"

Elliot glanced down at Marc in angry distaste, and she stared up at him with her own anger. He'd been the one about to bite her, she reminded herself. "You eat animals. Is that any different, Marcella?"

She winced. "So I can become a vegetarian. You can't."  
Elliot sighed. "Is it my fault? I didn't ask to become a vampire; she just turned me. It's too late. I can't change who I am. Would you have me killed for being something I can't change or alter?"

Marc frowned in thought, trying to rationalize her instinctive repulsion. She was beginning to feel sorry for him, and for herself for having to try to figure this out. "How many people have you killed?" she suddenly asked. "How may have died because of you?"

His eyes were heavy. "A dozen at least."

"Months you say?" the Doctor interrupted before Marc could speak. "That's pretty good actually. I've met some vampires--"

"Doc!" Marc yelled at him in outrage.

The Time Lord's eyes were gentle. "Marc, he's right. He can't help what he's become." He turned back to Elliot. "I'll let you go. I can't condone--"

"Maybe I'll just go starve myself," Elliot cut him off. He didn't appear to have heard the Doctor. "Or maybe I'll just go downstairs, give myself up." He started down the stairs. "I need to see how my friends are doing at least. Good-bye."

The Doctor held out his hand to Marc, not looking at her. She took the hand, not looking at him. "Thank you," she said at last, her face shadowed, "for being there." _And I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. And I'm sorry if you don't like my attitude. And I'm sorry that you had to save me. And I'm sorry about how I felt and feel now. And I'm sorry for Elliot. And I'm sorry..._

"You're welcome." He paused. "Elliot is a good man, Marc. For being a vampire. You know that."

"I suppose," Marc sighed, brushing her hair back. She leant over to pick up her shoes, feeling weary and hollowed out. "He was interesting. A lot like me. Or so I thought."

"You never can tell," the Doctor smiled at her. He took her hand again and hopped energetically down the stairs. Marc smiled wanly at his childishness. He was so sweet really.

They met Elliot at the bottom, outside the door leading to the pub, leaning against the wall and looking ill. "What's wrong?" the Doctor asked sharply, pulling away from Marc. She looked between the two of them and felt cold.

"In there--" Elliot sagged against the wall. The Doctor walked into the pub.

Marc took one more, quick look at Elliot's pale face, then headed after the Doctor into the other room. "Doc--" she opened the door.

The Doctor slipped through before she could even take one step inside, and slammed the door shut behind him. Marc stared up at him, standing so close she could almost stick her head up his nose. "Don't go in there." His tone was cold, angry.

Marc glanced at Elliot again. "Why not?"

The Doctor's face was blank. "Dead bodies," he enunciated clearly.

Marc flinched. "Oh gawd," she muttered, "I'm gonna be sick."

"You didn't see it," the Doctor replied. He pushed the two humans out of the hotel ahead of him. Neither protested.

The whole street was deserted and dark. Marc shivered but didn't mind the cold wind. Where was everybody? She took a deep breath and noticed how silky, how smooth the fabric of her dress felt on her skin, the skirt swirling around her in the darkness.

She folded her arms across each other against her body, trying to warm up. "Now what?"

"I leave," Elliot said, turning to face Marc and the Doctor. He'd been staring at the hotel behind them. He smiled ruefully at Marc. "You know I've always wanted to travel. Well, now I need to."

The Doctor held out a hand. "Good luck."

Elliot shook it. "I'll be fine. What about you?"

The Time Lord glanced at Marc. She refused to meet his eye, or that of Elliot's. "Oh, I should think we'll be fine too. You'll like travelling. I've been told it broadens the mind." He headed down the road for the TARDIS.

"Bye." Marc turned to follow the Doctor.

"Please wait, Marcella," Elliot said.

She half-turned, an arrested movement, a little unwilling. "Yeah?" her voice was gruff.

He shrugged off his black leather jacket, now wearing only a thin white shirt and dark slacks. "My jacket's rather a giveaway, don't you think? In this neighborhood anyway. Julian gave it to me for my last birthday." He held out the jacket. "I want you to have it. Please. I consider it my good-luck charm."

"I don't believe in luck." Marc's voice was stubborn.

"Ah." Elliot's mouth tightened. "A skeptic."

Marc paused, memory jarring like a bad LSD flashback (or so she imagined; she'd never taken LSD—another new thing to try one of these days). She took the jacket and put it on. "Thank you, Elliot."

He hugged her, an impetuous move that startled Marc. She hugged him back awkwardly. "I didn't think you'd make a good vampire, anyway," he whispered into her hair.

She pulled back, face white in the darkness. "Why not?"

He grinned. "You're too much a romantic. The reality of drinking blood isn't very pleasant. Besides, you really aren't much of a night person, and the rest of us hate getting up in the morning."

"I am _not _a morning person," Marc asserted again, a smile curving her lips upward.

"I know," Elliot smiled back. He glanced up at the sky, then at the Doctor's slowly retreating back. "Good-bye, Marcella. Enjoy yourself. Be free."

Marc snorted. "What a lame excuse for an exit line."

Elliot shrugged indifferently. "Jasper was the one with the dramatic training." He took her hand and kissed it, an old-world gentleman again. Marc closed her eyes and breathed out deeply, breath smoking in the cold air. "I think I shall miss you."

She gave him a smile that trembled only a little. "Just don't forget me."

"My own space traveler," Elliot said.

"My own vampire," Marc answered.

He looked suddenly sad. He gave her a tiny wave and walked away, in the opposite direction of the Doctor. Marc watched him go, trying to figure out if she wanted to laugh, cry, or just panic.

She turned and ran after the Doctor, cursing her high heels. "Wait up!" she hollered.

The Time Lord stopped and turned around. "Ready to go?"

She looked surprised and stopped moving. "It's the end, isn't it?"

The Doctor frowned. "Sorry?"

"I mean, this is where all the books and TV shows end. Only it'll be a sunrise instead of a sunset. Yeah?"

The Doctor's face cleared. "Ah, I see. But this isn't a book or television. It's an end to this story, perhaps, or the end to your involvement in this story would probably be more accurate, but this story is only the beginning of something else."

They stopped outside the TARDIS and looked at each other.

"So," the Time Lord said.

"So," the human said.

"What's our next stop?" the Doctor continued. "Where I left you? Or a random destination, picked entirely at chance, totally new and exciting?"

Marc scowled. "Damn. I was hoping you'd decide."

"No no no no no. This is entirely up to you."

Marc paused, actually considering whether she should stay or go. This trip had been exciting and fun, yes, but toward the end it had become violent and terrifying. Is that what she wanted? Degrading fear? She remembered Elliot's and the Doctor's pale faces after seeing the dead bodies in the hotel, and her own paralyzing fear when Elliot was stalking toward her...

And then she thought about leaving behind the travel, the exotic destinations and all the opportunities. Marc twisted around to look back, vainly hunting for Elliot. _Enjoy yourself. _

Be free.

Marc turned back to the Doctor, a determined expression on her face, one the Doctor was already recognizing and would see a lot more of. "Let's go," she said.

"Where?"

"For a grand adventure, of course," Marc grinned.

THE END...?


End file.
